


The Promise of Thunder

by crieshavoc



Series: Whiskey and Wine [2]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, Felony, M/M, Punky Monkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crieshavoc/pseuds/crieshavoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next morning (follows "Whiskey and Wine").</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Promise of Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2/3.

                I wake to the sound of Tony dropping something in the kitchen. I’m not sure what, but between the actually clatter and Tony’s muffled cursing, I’m way less asleep than I want to be. Lifting my head from Sarah’s chest, I look blearily around, confused because I thought I fell asleep with my glasses on again. Sarah must have taken them off for me. She does that. My head is pounding and locating my specs is too much effort, so I just groan and snuggle back down.

                Sarah grumbles in her sleep and her arms tighten around me, which feels absolutely wonderful. I’m back in dreamland in no time. Or, you know, I would have been, if not for Felix poking me in the back repeatedly.

                “What?” I don’t even open my eyes.

                Felix snickers, “We’re going for groceries.”

                “Okay, have fun,” I lift a hand and wave it for a moment, but that’s a ton of work and I’m crazy hung over. I need more sleep and I have the perfect pillow. I’m drifting off when one of the guys, probably Tony, bangs the loft door shut much harder than necessary and Sarah jumps underneath me.

                “What the _bloody fuck_?” Sarah’s clearly hung over, too, judging by how tightly she has her eyes shut.

                I lean up and kiss her nose as if it’s something I do every morning instead of just something I’ve dreamed about having the courage for. She whines and her hands, which are splayed on my back and, _oh,_ one is under my sweater, flex and twitch for a moment. I nuzzle my own nose against her cheek, eliciting more whining.

                “Wha’ time is it?” Groggy, hung over, why-am-I-awake Sarah is my favorite Sarah.

                “No clue. Felix and Tony went for groceries,” I say with a yawn, pressing my face into the disheveled hair covering Sarah’s neck. She smells like whiskey and Kira’s shampoo. We must be out of ours.

                Sarah huffs and makes no attempt to get up. If anything she seems to radiate displeasure at the whole idea of being awake. Her fingers begin to trace nonsensical patterns on my back.

                “I don’t know about you, lion, but I need some aspirin,” I whisper, extremely conscious of my headache and the warmth of Sarah’s hand on my skin. I start to get up, but Sarah doesn’t relax her grip on me. “I could get us both some, and some water,” I offer, already losing my will to move.

                “No,” Sarah whispers back, pulling me back down. “Stay,” she commands, face still twisted up in obvious pain.

                I brush my nose against her jaw, “But I have a headache. And you look like you have a headache.”

                “Shut up and cuddle with me, geek.”

                Blinking, I nod my head. We’re close enough that Sarah feels it and relaxes her arms, satisfied that I won’t try to escape again. I kiss her cheek and bury my face in her hair again, smiling when Sarah releases a shaky breath. I’m quiet and she’s quiet and her hand is moving on my back again, the one under my sweater, and without the alcohol to distort it, the contact _does_ feel more like a gale, like a river overrunning its banks, like I wish she’d never stop. Even overtired and coming off a night of way too much drinking I can tell this is going to be a problem.

                “I never did,” Sarah breaks the quiet, her hand still moving, her voice heavy with the awkward croak of the morning after.

                I wrack my brain, trying to connect her statement to something, but I come up empty. I want to ask, but waiting is better. Sarah gets tense with too many questions. She knows I’m listening if she wants to explain.

                “I never played gay for a con,” She does want to explain, then.

                “Because you’re straight,” I say back, quiet and frank, as if I’m settling an argument.

                “Because it never came up, Cos,” Sarah is insistent, as if the argument _isn’t_ settled. “It never came up,” saying it the second time, Sarah sounds less insistent and more…. Something. Distracted? Tentative? Pleading? Definitely unsure.

                “I didn’t mean to open Pandora’s Box on you, Sar,” I look up at her, smiling gently. “Don’t have a crisis on my account.” I mean it as a joke. A _joke_. I let my smile go crooked so she knows that.

                Sarah’s looking at me with her brow furrowed, intensely, like this moment is important. Like she wants to remember it. “Little late fo’ that, love,” she whispers and her hands are moving further up my back, pulling at my sweater.

                “Wha’?” I try to ask, but then my lips are occupied with the answer.

                Sarah Manning kisses like she loves: with a fiercely gentle passion. Sarah’s hands curl against my back, both on my skin now, and she sighs into my mouth as I catch up to this new, amazing, incredible, fantastic layer of our shared reality.

                _Holy, bloody, fuckin’ watershed. Sarah’s kissing me._

                It’s not perfect, honestly. Kissing doesn’t magically cure our hangovers and we could both do with some toothpaste, but we’re in the eye of the storm, so deep under the surface we can’t feel the current anymore, and I swear every cell in my body is responding to hers as if it was part of our design. Maybe this is another unintended consequence of _clones_.

                I pull back first, slowly, carefully, and my eyes flutter open. Sarah still has hers closed, and the look of bliss on her face is better than any aphrodisiac. I lean forward to kiss her, my hands itching to twist in her hair that smells like innocence and touch her skin that smells like lessons learned the hard way, but before I can the door slides open. I immediately slump down on Sarah again, chuckling despite my frustration when I hear Sarah growl into my ear.

                We exchange comical hellos with Felix and Tony, with us clearly unhappy and both of them clearly amused, and I let my eyes close for a minute, savoring the tingles still chasing Sarah’s hands on my back.

                Tony leans over the back of the couch, clearing his throat loudly.

                I twist my head, glaring up at the fuzziness I assume is him. I feel Sarah tilt her head, too.

                Our brother reaches out both arms, dangling two bottles of water in one hand and a new bottle of aspirin in the other. He’s grinning at us, not winking or making a lewd joke, just smiling wide and shaking his head.

                “You two are fucking _adorable_ ,” he tells us, strolling back to the kitchen once Sarah and I each grab a bottle and Sarah snags the aspirin.

                I’m blushing and Sarah’s blushing, but one of her hands is still on my bare skin and she seems a lot more concerned with using her teeth to twist the cap off her water than with having a gay panic moment or denying that the guys interrupted something.

                “Let me, lion,” I reach for the bottle only to stop, biting my lip against a laugh.

                Sarah side eyes me, growling again and visibly biting harder at the plastic between her teeth. “I go’ it,” she mutters.

                I nod, “O-okay then.” My voice is less shaky than my knees, but I manage to sit up and open my own bottle easily. I take three aspirin and chug half the water, leaning back against Sarah’s legs with a satisfied noise.

                Sarah’s hand is practically on my ass now and she hooks her thumb into the waistband of my pants with no hesitation whatsoever, like that’s a totally normal thing for her to do. I hope it will be, now. She manages to remove the mangled cap and spits it in the direction of the table. After a healthy gulp, just like last night with the whiskey, she looks to the bottle of medicine still in my hand.

                I knock three more into my palm and hold them up for her to take.

                She takes them alright. Sarah leans up and _eats_ them right out of my hand. _Fuck_. Sarah leans back and downs the rest of her water. _Fuck_. The column of her throat is on display and, blurry or not, I _know_ how soft her skin is – how soft her _lips_ are – and _fuck she’s grinning_. She’s _teasing_ me.

                “Not cool, dude,” I mutter, pouting, tossing the aspirin and my water bottle in the direction of the table, too.

                Sarah chuckles and drops her empty bottle, tracing her fingers up my thigh. She catches my eye and winks. _Winks_.

                “So, I’m going to paint now,” Felix shouts, clearly trying to distract us again. Not cool, either. “And Tony’s going to pose, so if you two want to just stay there and make out on my couch that’s fine, but be quiet about it!” He fails at sounding anything like stern or forceful.

                I’m blushing, sure, but so is Sarah, and she’s looking at me like she doesn’t understand why we’re _not_ making out. You know, since we’ve just been given permission. She’s also flipping Felix off, and Tony, who are now giggling in the background. What the hell, man.

                “I thought you were straight,” I whisper, leaning down so our foreheads touch.

                “Shut up, geek,” Sarah breathes the words against my lips and _there’s_ the storm, the lightening turning sand to glass, the surf crashing against my ribs, the promise of thunder in my blood. Kissing Sarah is like setting out on a new adventure, like coming home again, like achieving Nirvana without trying. It’s super unreal and the most natural thing in the universe, and groaning-into-my-mouth Sarah is _totally_ my new favorite Sarah.


End file.
